


Dovah Kaaz Grohiik

by geekygirl007



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9582077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekygirl007/pseuds/geekygirl007
Summary: A prequel to "The Last Dovahkiin Dies". About how Kat met her family, was betrayed and eventually disappeared.





	1. Family Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> You do not have to read "When the Last Dovahkiin Dies" to understand this story. Read whichever you want first.

“There was a dragon at Helgen...” Frodnar heard his uncle say. Dragons? Weren’t they just tales his mother had told him as a child? On the ground beside him Stump whined.

“Don’t worry,” Frodnar began, looking to his loyal dog. “All the dragons are long dead.” He assured Stump, petting the the mutt’s head. When he looked back to the group he was eavesdropping on the khajiit was nowhere to be seen. Curiously Frodnar narrowed his eyes and peeked out from his hiding spot by the house. Behind him Stump growled and Frodnar instinctively drew his knife and whipped around.

“What do you plan to do with that boy? Slice a butterfly in half?” Asked the khajiit who’d snuck up behind him.

“Butterflies? This dagger is fit for a Stormcloak soldier!” Argued the blond nord boy staring up at the scar across the woman’s face. The strange khajiit laughed in amusement at the dull blade in the boy’s hand.  
“I could do more damage with my fists than with that dagger.” Chuckled the khajiit. “But if you want to kill you might as well do it properly.” Grabbing Frodnar’s wrist she pointed the knife towards herself. “Keep your blade up, never let your guard down, that’s how you get killed.” She explained distracting Frodnar as she used her leg to knock him over.

“Hey!” Cried Frodnar struggling to get back up. Beside him Stump appeared to be smiling, so much for loyalty.

“Many nords will forget that enemies will fight dirty, you’d do well to remember.” She reminded him.

“But it’s cheating!” Argued Frodnar from the ground.

“There are no cheaters, there are survivors and there are the dead. The dead cannot speak, so the victors get to tell the tale.” Finished the khajiit, then she departed for Whiterun, a sword at her hip and a bow on her back.  
That was the day Frodnar met the Dragonborn.

*****

Sissel shivered in the freezing snow at the top of the mountain. The frozen rocky terrain was far different than the mild plains of Whiterun hold. Not only was the foreign terrain odd, but Sissel had a strange feel she couldn’t shake. Over the side Sissel could just make out the tall roofs of Whiterun, there was only one mountain high enough to see that far...

“The Throat of the World.” Sissel whispered to herself staring down at the dizzying drop below. Behind her she sensed something stir, heard the flapping of what she she assumed were a large bird's wings. What she turned around to see was far different. Cautiously Sissel began backing away from the giant, gray, scaly dragon, praying to the eight divines it hadn’t seen her.

Was this a dragon of legend? How had it survived alone since the last age? Some tales told of the intelligence of dragons, even f them speaking, perhaps she only need ask it...

“Do not be afraid little nordling. Boomed the dragon with a powerful, old voice. The cracked horn on his head and wings full of holes suggested many ancient battles fought, and won. “What do they call you?”

“My name is-" 

“Sissel!” Interrupted her father. Sissel’s eyes snapped open as she woke up from her dream. Woke up from from a beautiful fantasy with kind old dragons to face the bleak unforgiving world that is reality. Angrily her father Lemkil approached the bed and ripped the soft furs from her grasp.

“Get up you lazy brat. Brittes already to work in the fields, why can’t you be more like your twin!” He grumbled walking off. “Why couldn’t you two be alike in the ways that matter...”  
With a creak of the door Britte walked in, wielding a hoe and covered in dirt. She didn’t even acknowledge her sister Sissel other than an ‘ugh’ before tossing her the hoe. Reflexes kicking in Sissel easily caught it, thankful Britte didn’t use the heavy tool to smash her over the head. 

Quiet but angry Sissel retreated out of the small wooden house slamming the door behind her just as Lemkil threw an empty bottle of mead at her, smashing it to pieces. Enraged she descended the steps to the ground Britte right on her heels.

“Worthless milk-drinker.” Britte growled smacking her sister on the head as she passed by. Rage boiled through Sissel’s veins, commanding her to use her magic to defeat the enemy. Instead she threw down her hoe and  
headed for the inn.

Inside she found familiar sights, a roaring fire, two adventurers having a brawl, a bard singing ‘Ragnar the Red’ in the background. Merrily Sissel took a seat far from the fight, too many times had she been hit by a flying tankard or tooth. Trying to forget her worries Sissel internally began routing for the khajiit woman over the orc clad in iron.

With grace and expertise the woman dodged a blow from the orc’s fist and countered with a scratch to his unprotected face. Several patrons cheered at the khajiit’s victory, passing bags of gold from loser to winner.

“Taking time to watch the savages fight are we my dear apprentice?” Asked a familiar voice, Jouanne Manette.

“Anything to avoid my family Jouanne.” Sissel explained to her magic teacher. Her fun was over but she wasn’t ready to face reality quite yet. So instead she thought back to the strange dream with the dragon. “What do you  
know about dragons Jouanne?”

“People say that khajiit was at Helgen, saw one up close and lived to tell about it. I think it's highly unlikely.” Manette suggested directing Sissel towards the adventurer. Curiously Sissel approached the woman, what did she have to lose?

“Excuse me, may I ask you a question?” Sissel began politely.

“No I don’t want to play tag with you.” Growled the khajiit finishing off the mead in her tankard. Sighing Sissel crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the adventurer. Most visitors to Rorikstead were eager to boast about their latest adventure, why wasn’t this woman?

“Actually I was going to ask you about dragons, but apparently the only thing you adventures understand is coin. So how about this, there’s a giant camp not far from here, I hope it sends you to the moon.” Dumbfounded the khajiit stared at her blankly for a moment, then put her mug down on the table.

“I like you kid, you’re not afraid of anything. I’m Kat.” The khajiit extended a hand to introduce herself.

“Sissel, now tell me everything there is to know dragons.” 

*****  
“Mother?” Erith called, dust fell from the ceiling as she did. At her feet Torom whined and pulled Erith’s green dress, knocking her over. 

“Torom! What’s wrong?” She cried after her dog as he bolted out of the mine, sensing something Erith could not.  
Screams erupted from the miners below, Erith raised her head up, supporting herself with her arms for a better look. For a moment nothing happened, then a small pebble next to Erith’ shand began to bounce.

“Cave-in! Everybody run!” Shouted a miner far below that Erith couldn’t see.

“Cave-in?” Mouthed Erith, she could just see the first of the workers rushing up the path to get aboveground, she’d be trampled. Swiftly she rolled to the side of the cavern to avoid being crushed by panicked workers.

“Mom!” She shouted watching each of them go by, waiting, hoping one of them would be her mother.

"Erith?” Came the reply she had been waiting for. Ignoring the pain in her legs Erith scrambled to her feet and rushed to embrace her mother. For one lovely moment mother and daughter stood arms wrapped around each other until Daighre shoved Erith away. Massive crumbling rocks fell from the low ceiling crushing Daighre beneath her and raising a cloud of dust.

“No!” Cried Erith, untouched by the boulders, thanks to her mother…

Hopelessly the small girl began scraping away rubble, cutting her fingers on sharp pieces of rock, tears streaming down her face from pain and loss. On and on she dug determined to rescue her mother until someone’s arm began to drag her away. The hand that held her wore no gauntlet, but was covered in brown fur, and there were claws where fingernails ought to be, it was a khajiit. Clad in some kind of leather armor the adventurer lead Erith from the collapsing mine with a shield above their heads.

“Are you alright?” Asked the khajiit once the two were safely above ground once more.

“My mom just…” Erith muttered pointing to the mine, her finger dripping blood. Sensing his owner’s heartbreak Torom approached with a whine and nuzzled Erith’s leg. 

“Give me your hand.” Offered the khajiit preparing a healing spell. Still in shock all Erith could do was blindly obey. “Do you have any other family? Someone who can take care of you?” She asked, bright yellow magic flowing from her hands sealing the cuts on Erith’s hands. Erith tried to answer but her voice quivered and she shook her head instead.

“I’ll have a guard take you to the orphanage in Riften, you'll be safe there."

*****

Silently Kat rolled around the man dusting the floor of Belathor's shop and hid behind the counter. Breathing through her mouth to be quieter Kat planned out her next move. Slowly she got up and made he way upstairs, if she was quiet enough she could still get away with some money in her pocket. Once upstairs Kat began rummaging through cupboards taking jewels, gold, potions, anything that would fetch her a price at the thieves guild. Before the sweeper wizened up Kat was already out the door and on the road to Riften. 

A few short minutes after passing Ivarstead Kat was stopped by three nord men brandishing iron weapons.

"Why don't you get off the horse kitty?" One of them mocked, he had a war hammer in his hands. Sighing, Kat dismounted preparing herself for what she expected would be a very short but bloody battle.

"Why don't you lay down your weapons and scurry home to your mothers?" Suggested Kat showing them her sharp teeth with a smile. The three men looked to each other as if having a silent conversation and nodded simultaneously.

"I could use a new rug anyway." Said the thug with the war hammer.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" Shouted Kat before the thugs could advance. Flames leapt from the mouth of the khajiit, engulfing the foolish nords. Calmly Kat approached only survivor as the other two fell dead.

"Who sent you?" She asked completely serene, as if she hadn't just killed two people and nearly killed a third. Whimpering like a scorned puppy he took took a note from his pocket and gave it to the khajiit.

"Ysolda." He managed to utter. To distract him Kat smiled with her mouth closed as she used a dagger to end his agony.

The note was signed by Ysolda, the man had been telling the truth. After reading the rest of the letter Kat discovered the men were hired to "teach her a lesson" and "that will teach her not to steal from the people of Whiterun."

"Damn it," Muttered Kat, the sweeper must have seen her. She'd have to go silence him before he informed the guards. But first she was going to pay this "Ysolda" a visit.

Having reached Whiterun Kat left her horse at the stables and headed for the Bannered Mare. As she walked in all eyes fixed on her, the bard stopped playing his lute mid-song. She didn't like the feeling of a dozen eyes watching her, waiting for her to do something. Scanning the room she tried to look braver than she felt.

"Drinks all around!" She cried with a wave of her arm, attempting to take some attention off of herself, and walked to the bar. "Do you know a 'Ysolda'?" Kat asked the barkeep who was cleaning an empty mug with a rag. The barkeep only pointed to a table at the back, a woman with short hair and a blue dress sat there. Nodding her thanks Kat slipped the barkeep enough septims to pay for the drinks, plus a little extra, and sneaked over to Ysolda's table.

"Your the one who paid for my next round right?" Asked Ysolda offering Kat a seat.

"And, correct me if I'm wrong here," Kat sat down across from the woman. "You’re the one who sent those thugs after me."

"That's right." Ysolda admit confidently. Without fear she took another sip of mead.

"Interesting," Kat muttered.

"What's interesting?" Ysolda replied propping her feet up on the table.

"How unafraid you are. You'd carry out a polite conversation with me while most would run, or grab a sword, or at least hurl insults my way." Kat explained leaning back in her chair. This woman was oddly comfortable being confronted, Kat was sure if she should be scared or fascinated.

"Life is too short to constantly fear consequences, so I've decided not to. Promise not to kill me and I'll tell you all about it."

"Are you actually bargaining with me?" People had tried to bribe Kat before, with money or power, but never with words...

"I guess I am, Kat. Question is will you hear me out?" Ysolda asked, offering Kat her hand. For a moment Kat considered her options, violence and vengeance as usual, or something new?

"Good to meet you Ysolda." She finally answered, taking the woman's hand.


	2. Orphans, Orphans Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat helps Sissel take care of her father and encounters Frodnar in Riverwood again.

“Get up girl,” Spat Lemkil wobbling on his clumsy legs in his drunken state. “Or I'll kick you in the head.” Exhausted by pain and carrying fresh bruises Sissel stumbled to her feet and scanned the room for her sister. Finding Britte hiding under a table Sissel shot her sister a desperate look before Lemkil’s fist connected with her stomach. Sissel crumpled to the ground as the breath was knocked out of her, she wouldn’t keep living like this.

Her vision beginning to blur Sissel searched for some sort of weapon, anything to stop Lemkil’s assault. On a cupboard behind the table she saw what she was looking for, an iron dagger. Just as she got her hopes up Lemkil kicked her again, sending her rolling across the floor.

There was no way Sissel could ever get to that dagger, but Britte could. Quickly finding her feet before Lemkil could hit her again Sissel signalled Britte, directing her towards the knife. Britte looked at it for a moment, and back to Sissel, shaking her head with fear in her eyes. Sissel screamed when Lemkil kicked her again, her entire left side aching and bruised.

Britte winced and looked away, when her sister screamed again she jumped, hitting her head on the table as she scrambled out from under it. Not once did she look back as she sprinted through the door into the night.

“Britte! Help! Where are you going!?” Sissel cried bleeding from her head. Angrily Lemkil reached down, picking her up by her neck and hoisting her up so her feet didn’t touch the ground. 

“Shut yer filthy mouth girl!” He sneered through his teeth, beginning to choke Sissel. Fighting back with all her remaining strength Sissel kicked at Lemkil’s stomach, but connected only with open air. 

“Put her down!” Commanded a voice, it was the khajiit woman, with Britte just behind her. Drawing her sword the woman stepped through the door. “I won’t ask again.” Sword in hand she crossed the room slashing his arm and forcing him to drop Sissel. Cursing in pain and anger Lemkil rushed at the khajiit, tackling her to the floor, in the confusion the sword skidded across the wood stopping when it smacked into the wall. Scrabbling off of the woman Lemkil charged ungracefully towards the sword in vain as the khajiit clawed at his leg dragging him back. Viciously her claws dug into his flesh making him grunt in pain, stumble and fall.

Eyes going once more to dagger Sissel sped towards the shelf it rested upon, taking it in her hands.

The drunk man pulled himself forward even as his leg was torn to shreds until the sword was in his hands. With a new sense of urgency the woman pushed herself up from the floor and plucked an arrow from her quiver, it wouldn't do much good, but any object with a pointy end was better than none. Foolishly Lemkil dove right at her, easily she avoided his attack by stepping to the side and shoved the arrow into his back as he passed. Stunned Lemkil fell to his knees right infront of Sissel, and dropped the sword. a second passed and the adventurer scooped her sword back up and came to stand by Sissel.

"It's your kill if you want it, Sissel." Offered the khajiit holding out her sword. Sissel studied the dagger in her hand a moment and looked Lemkil in the eyes.

"Last words?" She asked her father.

"Rot in Oblivion leech." He spat.

"You first." Sissel said, raising the dagger and plunging it into his throat. Realization of what had just happened didn't catch up to her until a minutes later, and when it did it came crashing down on her like a wave drowning her. "What do we do now?"

"Lock the door, throw away the key. By the time anyone thinks to check up on him we'll be long gone. Come now, there's an orphanage in Riften." Said the khajiit heading for the door. Taking a last look around the house Sissel noticed something, or rather didn't notice.

"Where did Britte go?" She asked. The woman looked around for a moment, sheathed her sword and ran out the door Sissel not far behind. Desperately both searched the village cloaked in darkness and turned up nothing, not even the adventurer's horse, Britte had stolen it.

"Foolish girl, she won't last a day out there." Muttered the woman with a sigh. Despite everything that happened in the past few minutes and being sent to an orphanage Sissel couldn't be more relieved. Good riddance to both of them.

As they began walking down the road, questions burned in Sissel's mind begging to be asked until she couldn't bear it any more. "Why did you help me?"

"Because my parents did the same to me, 'cept they used knives. Bloody bastards never even bothered to give me any name other than 'Kat'." Explained the adventurer. Walking faster now to keep pace with Kat Sissel asked more questions.

"In your travels did you ever come across a..." Sissel paused racking her brain for the right word. "A nice dragon?" Kat took a moment to reply, perhaps confused, though Sissel wasn't quite sure.

"Why ask about that Sissel? All the dragons I've met tried to either eat me or burn me to a crisp and then eat me."

"I just, had a dream. There was a nice dragon on a mountain, he was old, and he talked to me." Sissel shrugged, when Kat said nothing she continued. "He looked old. With wings full of holes and missing one of his horns." Sissel described remembering all the details of her dream. "It was so high up, I thought we were on the Throat of the world." Sissel finished, pointing up at the peak that towered over all of Skyrim.

Kat gazed up at the mountain that loomed over them rather confused. How did this child know about Paarthurnax? Perhaps she'd go ask him herself.

"There is one, his name is Paarthurnax."

*****

"Dragons, dragons everywhere." Kat muttered firing another arrow into the sky. "Couldn't attack while I was on the road could you? No you just had to go burn down Riverwood didn't you? Didn't you!" She shouted towards the beast as it landed on the inn. "Get down here and fight me coward!" She cried, her arrow hitting it in the head this time.

Hidden behind the inn Frodnar and Stump crouched, remaining quiet as the dragon rained fire down on his home; without a bow there was nothing he could do. Peeking out from around the corner he saw Kat swearing at the creature, firing arrow after arrow towards it. For a second he thought she was brave, and she was, but truly looked more annoyed than anything, like this was just some casual frustration to her. It occurred to him that she might just be insane, and immediately hoped it wasn't true, a mad warrior with that much power and skill would be terrifying.

"Frodnar run quick!" He heard his mother shout, and noticed his parents rushing past him, towards the house. As he sprung up to follow Hod and Gerdur the dragon swooped down taking Hod in it's massive jaws and tossing him through the air before he landed with a sickening crunch. Frodnar screamed but the dragons landed infront of his mother blocking her path and spitting fire until she collapsed screaming and dead. Nothing he could do, it's like he'd been placed there just to watch.

"This is for Gerdur!" Kat cried jumping onto the dragon's head and slicing it in two. Soaked in blood she leapt from the beast's head and knelt down next to the crying nord boy.

"There's an orphanage in Riften." She would say, realizing this was becoming a habit of hers, wherever she went a trail of dead parents and orphans seemed to follow. But she'd apologize to the child anyway and take them to Riften anyway, knowing there was nothing she could do, not yet. She'd sent three orphans there, and she wasn't going to just abandon them.

*****

With a heavy heart Kat stepped out of the Aretino residence.

After speaking to various bartenders around Skyrim she had discovered the tragic story of Aventus Aretino, the orphan who ran away. Aventus informed her that Grelod the Kind was anything but kind, she insulted and beat the orphans placed in her care, and Kat had sent three children into her clutches. The boy had also soft of hired her to kill Grelod, to which she sort of accepted rather happily. Payment didn't matter o Kat, so long as she killed the old crone. But she couldn't just walk into Riften, murder a resident and walk out. No, she was going to do this correctly, she'd need a reason to be in the city of thieves, she'd need an alibi...


	3. Alibi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat saves some orphans and Ysolda catches a thief.

Perhaps this wasn't my most brilliant plan, Kat thought as she stood next to Ysolda in the temple of Mara. Upon returning to Whiterun she'd asked the woman to marry her, Ysolda had of course accepted. The proposal had mostly been provoked from love, but also because she needed a reason to be in the city so no guards got suspicious when a woman turned up dead...

Behind her sat many of her friends, Companions, housecarls, and various people she'd helped from all around Skyrim, even a khajiit caravan, some of Ysolda's friends had been allowed into the city. Briefly Kat glanced back at the guests searching for Farkas, noting his absence. Strange, Kat could've sworn he'd been here just a second ago.

*****

Suspiciously Farkas surveyed the town outside the temple. He didn't trust the city of thieves, corruption, bribery and murder were all commonplace here. In fact he'd be surprised if the wedding was concluded without a disturbing interruption. Sighing Farkas paced around the market, empty as the sun dipped below the horizon. Then someone emerged from the temple with a bottle of mead in his hand. It was one Kat's guests, a man he had never met before but had heard about. With red hair and some kind of leather armor Farkas had seen Kat wear he could only guess it was Brynjolf. Kat talked about him occasionally after a few drinks of mead, drunkenly admitting that he had a "brilliant accent and a sexy voice".

"Is the ceremony over?" Farkas asked as Brynjolf approached leaning next to him on an empty market stall.

"Not quite. I'm surprised the lass even invited me, I prefer weddings where more drinkings involved." Brynjolf and Farkas both laughed.

"How did you meet Kat?" Farkas wondered. This wasn't the usual type Kat surrounded herself with, the man didn't even carry a bow or sword. With a smile Brynjolf took a swig of mead and answered him.

"Me and Kat were business partners, you know the lass is actually quite proficient at collecting rare treasures from caves. She finds them, I sell them to right people, and we split the profits." Farkas smiled, that sounded like Kat, every other day she was delving into some forgotten crypt hunting for mystical artifacts that may or may not actually be there. Though his smile quickly faded as a dark shape emerged from the temple and gracefully avoided the torchlight until they crossed into the graveyard, avoiding any guards. Brynjolf seemed to notice it to.

"Thief." Farkas stated heading to the graveyard at the temple's side, Brynjolf at his heels.

"Coming out of Kat's wedding party? It's probably just a guest." Brynjolf protested still following the large nord as he broke into a run. The figure wore a dark cloak and had a hood covering their face, and stopped in front of a stone coffin under a shelter. "It's just some lad mourning a loved one, come now, let's not disturb him." But Farkas was unconvinced by Brynjolf's words and approached the thief pulling the hood from their face.

"Kat? What are you doing?" Farkas questioned realizing who it was. She looked strange Farkas thought, it occurred to him that he'd never actually seen her wear a dress, but she certainly looked fancy tonight, adorned with a jade circlet atop her head, a green dress and a gold necklace.

"Did you get cold feet lass? Is it cause I'm so devilishly handsome?"

"Oh don't flatter yourself Brynjolf, the ceremony is over, now let me be." Kat hissed at him, pulling her hood up again and walking past them into the rain.

"What is she doing?" Farkas asked, beside him Brynjolf shrugged unknowingly.

"Don't know, but the lass had a dagger in her hand. We best find out 'fore she uses it." Suggested Brynjolf. "Lead the way nord, I'm right behind you." Dagger? She wasn't going to use it on someone was she? Farkas shook the thought from his head as he chased after Kat down a corner, and through an alleyway. Thunder cracked as Kat entered a building, the sign above it reading "Honorhall Orphanage".

"Well this just got far more interesting," Brynjolf smiled quietly heading inside upon seeing the sign. Farkas was far less amused, he didn't actually believe Kat had it in her to hurt orphans, but with enough mead he'd seen her do crazy things. Silently Farkas closed the door behind him, Brynjolf and Kat were both standing flat against a wall, listening to a woman yelling in the next room.

"Listen up you little guttersnipes, anyone who shirks their chores will get an extra beating," Shouted the old woman. Kat gripped her dagger tighter, it was then Farkas begun to understand. "And I will hear no more talk of adoptions you hear? Not of you is ever getting adopted. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you." That was the last straw for Kat, dagger in hand she stepped out into the room ahead of her, Brynjolf and Farkas right behind.

"Who in Oblivion are you? Get out or I'm calling for the guards." The old crone threatened, crossing her arms. Calmly Kat crossed the room pausing in front of Grelod.

"That will not be necessary," Kat said with a smile plunging her dagger into the woman's flesh. Cheers erupted from the children as the abusive crone fell lifeless to the floor, Farkas and Brynjolf were less impressed.

"Kat what have you done?" Farkas demanded holding Kat by the shoulders and shaking her while Brynjolf took a look around.

"Do you think I'm a fool Farkas? I wouldn't murder someone with no reason, I made sure she was as awful as they say." She growled, shoving herself away from Farkas' grasp. Inspecting a closet in the corner Brynjolf interrupted them by clearing his throat.

"She's telling the truth lad, come have a look at this." Brynjolf announced pointing inside the closet. As Farkas peered inside he saw chains, not only was the crone abusive but she must have been a tad psychotic to lock up orphans placed in her care.

"Aventus did it! Grelod the Kind is dead!" Cried the orphans merrily. Awkwardly Farkas put a hand the back of his neck, looking once more to the body on the floor, the chains in the closet, the cheering orphans, and finally at Kat.

“Maybe I owe you an apology,” He started, pulling Kat’s dagger out of the dead woman and handing it to her murderer. “I’ll won’t speak of this to anyone, I swear it.” Accepting the dagger with a smile Kat pulled him into a hug, for a moment they stood there in an embrace until Farkas spoke again. “Promise me you won’t kill any more civilians?” Kat nodded back at him eyes beginning to water, but then she remembered Brynjolf was still there.

“And what about you Brynjolf? You’ll keep quiet?”Asked Kat, fairly sure that he would, at least until the right price came along…

“”You have my word lass, I’d never tell another living soul.” He smiled making a show of crossing his heart. 

“Well then I suppose we’re done here aren’t we?” Said Kat stepping toward the door.

“Well I hate to say it but…” Brynjolf trailed off glancing toward the children. No, Kat liked to think she was above that. With a smile Kat turned to the orphans and put a finger to her lips, silently bidding them to keep quiet.

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry about them.”

Kat could still hear the children quietly cheering and saying thanks as she exited the orphanage, the last thing she heard was a young girl’s voice, not Sissel’s but another child she’d never met…

“So many lives improved with just one death, I wonder the possibilities.” Silently Kat prayed to any gods who were listening that that child didn’t grow up to be like her.

*****

When Kat awoke the next morning in the Bee and Barb, Ysolda was not beside her, though she could hear her wife downstairs shouting at someone.

“Ysolda!?” Kat cried leaping out of bed and not bothering to dress, her sword was gone from it’s place so she grabbed her bow instead. Arrow ready she headed down to the bar below, tables had been knocked over, Farkas was on the ground knocked out, and Ysolda held Kat’s sword to a man’s throat. “Ysolda?”

“Oh good morning love,” Her wife said sweetly not taking her eyes off the hooded man she pointed the sword at. “Caught this thief trying to steal from us, swine knocked out Farkas and nearly got away.”

As if on cue Farkas groaned and clumsily stood up knocking over another chair in his way. Dumbfounded, Kat could only stare at Ysolda in awe. Her wife who she thought was just some merchant in training had been able to stop a thief in his tracks where Farkas couldn’t, although Farkas was probably still just as drunk as Brynjolf who lay fast asleep on a bench.

“Not that I mind the staring love, but would you go and fetch the guards darling?” Ysolda asked. The hooded man sighed and took his hands off his head knowing he might be here for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” Kat announced stepping into the bright sunlight beyond the inn. Guards weren’t hard to find, a pair walked right up to Kat and for a moment she was worried they had come to arrest her for Grelod’s death but they simply asked, “What is it?”

“Thief in the inn,” Kat informed them. Drawing swords they rushed inside leaving Kat alone in the dangerous streets of Riften. Not twenty seconds later a man approached her wearing a hat and clothes dirty from travel.

“Been looking all over town for you, someone paid me handsome a sum to get that message into your hands. Bye now.” Waved the courier passing her a letter. Just as Ysolda emerged from the inn sword in hand Kat finished reading the letter, folding it back up before her wife could see it.

“What’s that my love?” 

“Nothing to worry about Ysolda,” Kat scanned around for the courier hoping to beat some answers out of him but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly realizing the awkward silence that had grown between them Kat blurted “How do you feel about adoption?”

“Well that was fast, I don’t know Kat, are you sure we can support a family right now?” Worried Ysolda. Glancing down at the stones by her feet Kat thought of all the thieves that ran beneath, about gold just waiting to be stolen.

“Money won’t be an issue, my love.” Kat laughed.

*****

Living in Breezehome was comfortable, if a bit cramped. Between Lydia and the three children Kat adopted, Sissel, Frodnar, Erith and of course they had to bring Erith’s dog there were eight souls living under that roof.

“Perhaps a bigger house is in order.” Ysolda suggested curled up next to her wife in the master bedroom of Breezehome. Smiling down at her Kat gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“I bought some land up near Morthal, I’m going to build us a grand house with everything we need. We’ll have bedrooms and a library and there will be plenty of space for the kids to play around the manor.” Kat explained describing her vision of the house as best she could.

“So long as I’m with you my love.” Said Ysolda closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. Laying there awake Kat thought once more about the letter she received and unfolded the parchment sitting in her bedside table.

Inside was a black hand print, with only two words, “We know.”


	4. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't how Ysolda planned her second day of being married would go.

Ysolda had gone to sleep that night thinking of her wonderful future with her wife. Sure, balancing adventuring with a new home life would be difficult for Kat, but she’d always made time for her friends, even if it was just to get drunk. Ysolda had not been prepared to wake up in the middle of the night with Kat gone.

At first Ysolda assumed Kat had gone off adventuring, or maybe she was with the Companions at Jorrvaskr, but her heart sank when she saw Kat’s armor. Untouched on its stand. Kat refused to go anywhere, even to the bar without her armor, especially in the middle of the night.

Jumping out of bed Ysolda pulled on a dress, a pair of boots and threw a cloak around her shoulders to protect her from the rain she could hear pelting against the roof. Just as she was about to dash up the road to Jorrvaskr Ysolda noticed a note resting on Kat’s bedside table.

The room was lit by a solitary candle perched atop Kat’s bedside table, and Ysolda scrambled in the dark to reach the note. Slowly she unfolded the parchment assuming inside she’d discover a ransom note, tears streamed down her face. Inside was no ransom, only a black hand print and two words.

“‘We know’?” Read Ysolda. With the note in hand she charged down the stairs and didn’t stop until she pounding on the doors of Jorrvaskr. An old woman wielding a broom answered her knock. Ysolda looked past her into the hall beyond. A hearth burned in the center of the building, all around the Companions were drinking and laughing merrily, blissfully ignorant of what was going on.

“May I help you dear?” Asked the old woman. “Oh yes I remember, your wife is the Harbinger. I heard the ceremony was lovely.” Removing her hood Ysolda walked past the woman impatiently into the hall. She looked around for Farkas, finding him seated at the table chatting with a man she could’ve sworn she’d seen before, though she didn’t where. New recruit perhaps? Oh it didn’t matter now.

“Farkas!” She called knocking over a chair in her haste to reach him. Smiling Farkas stood holding up a tankard in cheers.

“Ysolda! Has Kat come to?” He asked, but his smile faded when Ysolda drew nearer. “What is it Ysolda?”

“Kat is gone.” She announced holding the letter out to Farkas, a tear running down her cheek. It was loud in Jorrvaskr, none of the other Companions would hear them talking.

For a moment Farkas was quiet, standing there letter in hand not believing what he was hearing. Then the red haired man beside him pushed back his chair and held out his hand to Farkas.

“Let me see that lad,” Without looking away from Ysolda Farkas handed him the note, both hands curling into fists at his sides.

“What does it mean?” Farkas demanded. The other man sighed touching his hand to his forehead and muttering something. “What does it mean?” Shaking his head the man sighed again.

“Means you’ll need a new Harbinger. Come lass, let’s go talk in private.

*****

“I’m sorry you both snuck off with my wife during our wedding night and killed a woman?” 

“Well it sounds bad when you put it that way lass. Actually it was Kat who killed the old crone, we just didn’t tell anybody.” Answered the red haired man. Shooting the man a death glare Farkas kept talking.

“Not helping Brynjolf. The old woman was beating orphans and chaining them up, there was nothing else to be done.”

“You’re right there lad, and there’s nothing to be done now either. The Dark Brotherhood have her, lass is probably long dead by now, or worse. Best to stay out of it.” Warned Brynjolf. Stunned by his quick abandonment of Kat Ysolda took a step back and remembered where she’d met him.

“Stay out of it? If I recall you were the man passed out drunk on that bench the day after my wedding.”

“Aye lass, that was me. Though I don’t see what that's got to do with anything.” Brynjolf shrugged crossing his arms. 

“Why should I listen to a drunkard,” Ysolda paused a moment then pointed at Farkas “and a liar. If there is a chance my wife is still alive, I will find her,” Ysolda halted her speech long enough for her eyes to widen in remembers nice before she took off running. 

A bit confused Farkas glanced at Brynjolf who shrugged again, and with another death glare followed reluctantly, both chasing after Ysolda.

Breezehome’s door had been left wide open, inside Farkas could hear crying. Though it was dark, being lit only by a few candles Farkas followed the sound until Brynjolf put a hand on his shoulder.

“Nasty business the Dark Brotherhood, you don’t want to get involved lad.” He warned.

“Perhaps you should just scurry back to Riften then, coward.” Farkas growled shaking off Brynjolf’s hand. Sighing Brynjolf retreated from the house, heading for the stables where his horse awaited. “Ysolda?” Whispered Farkas as he stepped into the children’s bedroom. Head in hands Ysolda knelt by one of the empty beds, weeping.

“I lost everything on one night, my wife, my children.” She looked up a t Farkas then. “If you won’t help me who will?” Armor clanking Farkas sat beside her, putting an arm around the crying woman.

“I’ll help you, that's a promise. I’m going to find Kat and your children.” He promised, though he wasn’t sure if he was promising Ysolda or himself. He’d vowed to protect Kat then as a shield sibling, now he didn’t know. She’s married, he told himself. Should have said something…

“Stupid worthless dog,” Ysolda muttered a curse. “What good is a hound that doesn’t howl and bite when an intruder breaks in?” It took Farkas a moment to realize she wasn’t talking about him, she spoke instead of the dog one of Kat’s children had. He remembered seeing the animal running beside the cart that brought them all back to Whiterun. Not fair to blame the dog though, he was little more than a pup.

“If you want to blame someone, blame the assassin that kidnapped your family, the assassin that I’m going to cut the head off of.” Farkas replied.

“Is that so lad? Suppose I’ll come with you then.” Brynjolf interrupted suddenly appearing from the kitchen. Where in Oblivion had he come from?

“I thought you were on your way to Riften by now.” Farkas said.

“Yes well, those little orphans of Kat’s seemed to have put a hitch in my plan.” Started Brynjolf. Confused, the puffy red eyes of Ysolda looked up at him. “Don’t worry lass, good news is the assassin doesn’t have your children, bad news is the little deadra stole my lovely horse on their way out.”


	5. Threats and Bribes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erith, Sissel and Frodnar head out to find the kidnapped Kat. When they return some find that she's not quite the same as she once was...

“Do you even know how to ride a horse Frod?” Erith laughed, stopping the horse she shared with Sissel. She only asked because Frodnar’s horse seemed to have a mind of it’s own. Every few minutes the mare would turn her head start off in another direction.

“Well,” Started Frodnar, trying to untangle the reins. “No, but I’ve seen Kat do it. Can’t be that hard right?” The stolen mare snorted as if laughing at him.

“Come on, we got to keep up with Torom if we ever want to find Kat. Now take control of the horse Frodnar, Erith didn’t steal them so we could get caught before making it out of Whiterun hold.” Said Sissel, spurring her horse.  
“Right, about that…” Wondered Frodnar catching up to them and the dog. “What happens when Kat finds out we stole these horses? You don’t think she’ll send us back to Honorhall do you?” That made Sissel and Erith stop their horse dead in it’s tracks. Ahead, Torom kept sniffing, still following Kat’s trail.

For a moment the two girls stared at Frodnar before turning to each other and simultaneously saying “idiot.”

“What’s the worst that can happen milk-drinker? Kat pays our fine and it’s all erased? She’s the thane of Whiterun.” Argued Sissel.

“Also the Dragonborn. She can kill people, with words.” Erith added, before urging their horse forward, rushing up a hill after Torom. Left in the dust, Frodnar sighed to himself.

“Then how did someone manage to kidnap her in the first place?” He asked the night sky. A wolf’s howl answered him from somewhere in the distance. An owl hooted, Frodnar panicked and the mare bolted.  
“Sissel! Erith? Wait for me!”

*****  
By the time they passed through Morthal all three youngsters were struggling to keep their eyes open. It was just past dawn and still Torom tracked Kat. A hundred fears had crossed his mind as Frodnar rode beside his new sisters. What if bandits or trolls attacked them? Or giants or dragons? He could think of a dozen ways to die out here just off the top of his head. And if beasts didn’t kill them, cold or starvation would sooner or later…  
Then a dreadful thought crossed Frodnar’s mind, what if the kidnapper had taken Kat to a boat and sailed out onto the sea of Ghosts where they could not follow? Or what if they found Kat and were simply too late?

“Why did we stop?” Asked Sissel, the youngest of the three only half awake. On the ground Torom was sniffing around, trying to find Kat’s scent. Frodnar looked ahead, the ground became flooded and drenched, they’d reached the swamp of Hjaalmarch. Erith scanned the vast marsh that stretched out beyond them, the girl’s horse whinnied and tried to turn the other way.

“How in Oblivion are we going to track Kat in there?” Sissel wondered peering over Erith’s shoulder to see. Spurring his horse forward Frodnar rode off into the muck, Torom barked happily and raced off after him.

“I don’t think we’ll have to.” Frodnar called back to his sisters, trotting towards a blot in the distance. Squinting at the shape Erith then turned back to look at Sissel.

“Is that?” Began Erith. Behind her Sissel jumped of the stolen horse charging through the murky swamp, splashing water all around. 

“Kat!” Sissel shouted, rushing past Frodnar on his horse and leaping into Kat’s waiting arms. Smiling in relief Sissel urged her horse after her sister, not stopping until she reached Kat. 

“Are you alright?” She demanded frantically dismounting. Blood stained Kat’s rugged dirty clothes, whether it was Kat’s or the kidnapper’s Erith could not tell.

“I’m fine Erith.” Replied Kat throwing her arms around her other daughter before breaking out in laughter and crying all at once. After a moment and a tear down her face Kat grabbed Erith’s shoulders. “Now who’s stupid idea was this?” She sighed, smiling. Silently all three looked to each other, wordlessly promising none would rat out another.

“Alright fine, it was me.” Frodnar admitted, climbing off his horse and staring down to his feet. Smiling, Kat knelt next to Frodnar and mussed up his hair.

“Miss me kid? Come on then, let’s go home.” Announced Kat, mounting the horse and offering Frodnar a hand.

“You’re not mad? You’re not even going to ask where we got the horses from?” Stammered Frodnar.

“I would, but I suspect the guards will give me an earful when we get back to Whiterun. Now we really must get going before Farkas tears apart the countryside looking for me.”

*****  
“I do not have time for this. My friend is out there and thanks to you buffoons so are her three children with horses.” Growled Farkas to the guard posted at outside the stables.

“Are you suggesting it was my fault those little urchins stole two horses?” Demanded the guard with a hand in his sword hilt. Crossing his arms Farkas smirked.

“I wasn’t suggesting anything,” 

Anger bubbling inside him the guard drew his sword from its sheath.

“Perhaps I’ll just arrest you in their place, now come along quietly Companion.” He ordered. Farkas took a few steps back trying to come up with a plan, he could draw his sword and fight, or maybe turn into a werewolf and run for it… Dammit, he thought to himself. Anything he did now would only serve to make the situation worse, Kat had always been the planner…

“Farkas!” Came a shout from the distance, the guard dropped his sword.

“Kat?” Yelled Farkas, beginning to run. He could hear the thundering horses as they rode into sight, Kat and Frodnar on one horse, and her two daughters on the other. The horses slowed as Farkas drew nearer, coming to a halt before they reached the stables. Hastily Kat slid off the saddle, clutching her arm awkwardly as she approached Farkas.

Before Farkas could throw his arms around Kat, Ysolda and Brynjolf emerged from the stable house. Behind them came the stable master apologizing to Brynjolf for the inconvenience.

“Kat?” Cried Ysolda, eyes red from crying. Shaking his head slowly Brynjolf began to laugh.

“Little bastards actually found her,” He muttered to himself waltzing over to the guard and putting an arm on his shoulder. “Both horses are back lad,” Grabbing his dagger from its sheath Brynjolf held it next to the man’s sensitive area. “In fact I don’t believe they were ever gone in the first place.”

“Wha-what horses? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stammered the guard, nodding in understanding. Smiling Brynjolf removed the dagger and his arm from the guard.

 

“Now move along lad, look me up if you ever find yourself in Riften.” Laughed Brynjolf, slapping the guard on the rear as he departed.

Tears streaming from her eyes Ysolda embraced her wife, a million questions coming to her mind, but she resisted asking all but one. 

“Are you alright?” She begged, holding Kat’s face in her hands. With a smile Kat nodded as Farkas sighed and went to help Sissel and Erith off their horse.

“Thank you for returning my horse, milady.” Brynjolf joked, mock bowing to the girls and taking the stallion’s reins. Blushing bright red Erith sneaked off and Sissel rubbed her neck awkwardly. Feeling a bit guilty Sissel helped return both horses to the stables. 

Stroking the mare’s mane Sissel glanced over a her new family, Kat and Ysolda were still locked in an embrace, Erith and Frodnar were getting into a fight, and there was Farkas, just hovering. Safely out of earshot Sissel felt comfortable asking about something she’d suspected for a while. “Do you think Farkas is in love with Kat?” Without missing a beat Brynjolf answered her in all honesty.

“Course he is. What kind of lad ventures halfway across Skyrim to a friend’s wedding and doesn’t watch the ceremony?” For a moment Sissel curiously watched Farkas getting between Erith and Frodnar, disrupting their argument. He’d make a decent father.

“Why hasn’t he just told her? Doesn’t she see the pain she’s causing him?”

“Because the lass is married, to another lass no less. Had Kat married a lad, I expect Farkas would have challenged him by now, but I don’t think the lad is honourless enough to fight a woman.”

“But he loves her doesn’t he?”

“Aye, and so does Ysolda. Don’t worry now little lass. I’ve been meaning to talk to Kat, maybe I can make her see it.

*****  
“Thank you for your business Hulda,” Smiled Kat, pushing a bag of coins towards the former bar owner.” Everything was perfect, she was home, her family was safe, her wife was going to own the inn like she always wanted… a hand on Kat’s shoulder shattered any delusions that she’d ever be safe. Preparing to tear the face off her assailant Kat whirled around to face, Brynjolf.

“Bit jumpy are we lass?” Chuckled the thief leading her over to an empty table. Rolling her eyes Kat almost smiled, she’d always had a divided opinion of the thief. Torn between despising his cowardly and disloyal tendencies and caring about her friend with the lovely accent. 

“Well, I was just kidnapped by a Dark Brotherhood assassin.” Explained Kat raising a tankard of mead up to her lips.

“About that, how did you escape? The Brotherhood isn’t exactly known for letting prisoners go.” Questioned Brynjolf staring into his foaming mug of ale. Kat took another gulp of her own drink, stalling, weighing her options.

“Is it so hard to believe I killed the assassin?” Regret formed in her mind as soon as she spoke the words. Carefully she studied Brynjolf for any indication of what he was thinking, she’d definitely chosen the wrong response.

“Without your weapons and armor? Yes lass, it is.” The two remained quiet for a moment as Brynjolf drained his mug and stood up. “Stay away from the Dark Brotherhood Kat, you and your family will be better for it.” Warned Brynjolf patting her on the shoulder on his way to the door. Slamming her drink on the table Kat stormed out after the thief, grabbing him by the collar with claws at the ready.

“Why in Oblivion should I listen to you? You’re just some thief.” Kat hissed, threatening Brynjolf with claws and teeth.

“So are you lass, and if I hear anymore of you and the Brotherhood I’ll tell that lad you love just what you are.” Brynjolf warned smugly, like he had all the power here, but this not Riften, this was her city.

“Who? Farkas?” The very suggestion made Kat laugh. “He wouldn’t believe you.”

“The lad saw you kill a woman, that’s more than enough to raise suspicion. Question is, why wouldn’t the lad believe me?” Brynjolf smirked. Violently Kat shoved him against the walls of the inn. Drops of blood began to fall where her claws had broken his skin. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” She growled, bringing her sharp teeth uncomfortably close to his face. “I’d turn you over to the guards before you even got near Farkas.”

“Kat I’m trying to help you,” Said Brynjolf. Without warning he kicked her in the stomach, winding her and breaking free of her grasp. “If I can’t help you, maybe the lad can.” He dashed off heading towards Jorrvaskr. Shaking her head and clutching her stomach with one hand Kat pointed an accusing finger towards him with the other. 

“Guards! That man attacked me! Seize him!” She shouted into the night. A half dozen guards chased after the thief circling him on the stairway to the cloud district. Slowly Kat climbed the steps as the guards drew their   
swords and stepped into the circle in front of Brynjolf. “Lock him in a cell for attacking your Thane.” 

Four of the guards returned to their posts as the other two dragged Brynjolf up to Dragonsreach. Quickly Kat slipped a bag of coins into each guard’s hand. “Ensure none come to see him without my permission, “ Before waltzing off home. 

“Kat! Kat? They’re going to destroy everything you care about!” Brynjolf kept shouting right up until they tossed him into a cell, then his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Unless you ruin it first lass.”

*****  
“Kat!” Called Farkas from the steps of Jorrvaskr. Panic took hold as he rushed down the steps to meet her. Had he seen the guards drag Brynjolf away? “I uh, never really got a chance to ask if you were alright.” He smiled pulling her into a hug. “Hey do you know where Brynjolf ran off to? Interesting man to drink with.”

Starring over Farkas’ shoulder towards the prison, Kat just caught a glimpse of Brynjolf before they shoved him inside. 

“Afraid you just missed him, he’s on his way back to Riften.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Brynjolf, should have just stayed out of it.


	6. Mutts and Murders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas tries to confront Kat about her werewolf murder sprees.

"That is it! I can't take the howling anymore! I'm gonna go put that mutt down!" Shouted a mercenary drawing his sword. Raising their mugs the other patrons cheered him on. Behind the bar Ysolda began to panic, her first week of owning the inn had not gone well all thanks to Companion's bloody hound. She didn't know how Hulda did it for all those years, with all her customers being driven out the door by the mad howling. No wonder the place had come so cheap, must have driven Hulda insane.

"Everyone settle down! I'll tell the Companions to keep their damn dogs quiet while the rest of you enjoy a round on the house!" Announced Ysolda, stepping out from behind the bar with her hands raised. Pulling a cloak over her shoulders to protect her from the cold Ysolda scooted over to he bard, Mikael. "Play loud, hundred gold says you can't drown them out."

"I'll take that bet Ysolda, and your money!" Challenged Mikael, strumming his lute. Smiling and rolling her eyes Ysolda slipped out of the inn and rushed up the steps to Jorrvaskr. Angrily she pounded on the doors, until finally Farkas answered.

"Don't tell me Kats missing again." Sighed Farkas, leaning against the door frame. Crossing her arms Ysolda shook her head irritably. 

"Nothing like that, I promise Farkas. I just wanted you to stop the howling of your damned hounds."

"Right, right, sorry. It's uh, cold outside, why don't you come in." Offered Farkas, waving her inside. Picking up two tankards from a table Farkas gave one to Ysolda before chugging his own down. "where is Kat anyways? I haven't seen her since Brynjolf left." 

"Where do you think? She's off wandering the caves and forgotten crypts of Skyrim." Ysolda joked taking a sip from her mug. "You know, I think she'd actually in Ivarstead right now. Supposed to be back tomorrow, but I've got to back to the Bannered Mare, before those scoundrels burn it to the ground."

"Come on, I'll walk you down the steps," Said Farkas tossing his mug to some unused corner and escorting Ysolda to the empty, night time marketplace. When she was safely back in the semi-stable inn Farkas smiled and gazed up into the sky.

"Beggar, Narfil or something? No mind, died in an attack the other day." Said a guard to his partner as they passed Farkas. What attack?

"What happened to the beggar?" Asked Farkas, interrupting their conversation. Stumbling they ceased just ahead of him on the stairs.

"Poor beggar in Ivarstead, a werewolf killed him." Answered the guard, quickly returning to his patrol. Oh gods it wasn't Kat it? The timing made sense, but it could have been any werewolf. Right?  


*****  


It was around midnight by the time Ysolda groggily stumbled back to Breezehome. Sighing, Ysolda leaned against the door and shut her eyes.

"Bloody drunken nords," She grumbled, opening the door and locking it behind her. On the stones near the hearth sat Torom, growling at her. "Oh now you growl, silly mutt. Couldn't have said something when my wife was being kidnapped?" Shaking her head Ysolda climbed the stairs, walking sleepily into the bedroom. Then a pair of hands grabbed her from the side, one clamped over her mouth the other wrapped around her waist. Tensing, Ysolda reached for the hand around her mouth, raking her fingernails against them, but instead of delicate, there was thick fur.

"Calm, it's only me." Kat whispered in her ear, beginning to kiss Ysolda on the neck. Letting her arms relax at her sides, Ysolda leaned into Kat.

"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Ysolda exclaimed.

"Wanted to surprise you," Replied Kat between kisses.

"Farkas wanted to see you," Ysolda remembered, stroking Kat's ear and making her purr in delight. Without warning Kat lifted her up, continuing her assault on Ysolda's neck before dropping her down on the bed.

"Not as much as I want to see you." Kat purred, above Ysolda now on her hands and knees. Smiling coyly Ysolda pulled Kat down into another kiss.

*****  
Kat woke at dawn the next morning, after kissing Ysolda goodbye she put on her armour and headed towards Jorrvaskr. She found what she was looking for in his bed, covered head to toe in animal furs.

"Farkas?" She asked the man shaped lump beneath the furs. In response Farkas groaned and shifted his leg showing bare skin under all those layers of blankets. Laughing, Kat reached reached between the furs, pulling Farkas up by his arm. "Just how drunk were you last night?"

"Not as drunk as you got with that daedric prince a while back." Sighed Farkas as Kat sat down beside him. 

"Right, I can't believe I almost married that hagraven." Kat smiled, scanning the nord head to toe. "Do you always sleep naked?" Blushing redder than a beet Farkas dove for a fur to cover himself with. "Well, I was going to ask why you wanted to see me Farkas, perhaps I must remind you I'm a married woman. Not to a hagraven this time! Never again..." Letting out a groan, Farkas held his heads in his hands.

"Oh gods, I remember. I was trying to drown out the knowledge that you murdered a beggar in cold blood. Or was that some other werewolf, who happened to be in Ivarstead the same time as you?" Announced Farkas, though his words were slurred Kat understood them just fine. Hastily she sprang from the bed, but Farkas caught her by the wrist and shoved the wooden door closed. She wasn't going to talk her way out of this one, and there were no guards to be bribed, not in Jorrvaskr at least...

"Stop killing people." Demanded Farkas. Fruitlessly Kat struggled against him, but his grip was iron.

"And if I don't ?" Kat challenged, not even bothering to deny it. Suddenly she went still, ending her wasted efforts to break free.

"Then I'll have to stop you." It was more of a warning than threat, Kat could see it in his eyes. If it came down to that she doubted he'd have the balls to do it.

"You can try," Hissed Kat raising her free claw to rake across his face. Even hungover Farkas managed to jerk his head back just enough so the cut wasn't deep, but it was still there. It was still shocking enough that Farkas loosened his grip long enough for Kat to flee from Jorrvaskr.

Cursing as drops of blood began to trickle from his wound Farkas searched the room for armour and sword. He'd promised to stop her, and for the good of innocent lives across Skyrim, now he had to.

*****  
What in Oblivion have I just done? Kat though to herself, charging down the steps of Jorrvaskr. No doubt Farkas would chase after her, but she had a few minutes, he wasn't going to run through the streets without clothes, was he?

With that in mind Kat hustled towards the marketplace, where the early rising vendors were just opening their stalls. Children weaved between the stalls laughing and chasing each other merrily, except for Frodnar. He was arguing with Lars Battle-Born, and it looked like things were headed south quickly. Part of Kat's mind told her to get out, Farkas would find her. Then Frodnar raised his fist to punch Lars and Kat couldn't help but intercept. By the wrist she dragged him away from the confrontation with Lars and behind Belathor's shop.

"You stupid boy, what were you thinking?" She demanded. Wriggling out of her grasp Frodnar answered her.

"The Battle-Borns support the Imperials, he is the enemy, and I can't just let him-"

"If you're going to hit someone you don't announce it! You strike hard and fast to catch them off-guard!" Kat explained, just like she hadn't done with Farkas...

"Wait, what?" Asked Frodnar, rather confused. Maybe that wasn't the best advice she could have given...

"Stupid!" She cried, putting a hand on her face. Quieter this time she said, "Dammit, forget I said that." In the distance she could hear a girl crying, Sissel? "Alright Frodnar, just don't bully Lars, now where is Sissel?"

Frodnar looked up at her even more confused and replied, "In the house, reading like she always does." Hearing the cry again Kat took a step back from Frodnar, trying to determine where it came from. She recognized the voice however, it was Erith.

"Frodnar, is Lars an Imperial soldier? Are you a Stormcloak? I don't think so, now go apologize! I have to go find Erith..." She finished her little speech, and jogged towards Warmaiden's where the sound was coming from.  
There sitting in the dirt, clutching her knees sat Erith. Her green dress was torn at the sleeve and stained with mud. Weighing responsibility to her daughter over her need to escape, Kat sat next to Erith, glass armour clanking as she did so. 

"What happened?" She asked.

"Braith," Erith only said the one word, but she didn't need to say anything else. Contemplating a solution was simpler than Kat originally thought, she found it in the form of an ebony dagger. Handing it to Erith she formed a plan in her head.

"I don't suspect you'll need to use it, just show it to Braith and she'll understand, but if you do, slash don't stab." Kat explained as Erith took the dagger from her palm. With a smile among the tears Erith rushed off to display her new dagger to anyone fool enough to cross her. Perhaps this wasn't Kat's strongest parenting decision...

Sighing to herself Kat stood alert for any sign of Farkas as she made her way to Breezehome, and spotted him wandering the market, searching for her. Quietly she slipped inside her house, taking care to lock the door  
behind herself. Sitting by the fire munching on a loaf of bread was Lydia, just the person Kat wanted to see.

"Lydia, if Farkas comes by will you tell him I'm at the Bannered Mare with Ysolda?" 

"Of course my thane," Lydia answered, taking another chunk out of the bread. Smiling Kat climbed the stair, oh Lydia, loyal without question. What would she do without Lydia?

Shoving the doors of her bedroom open, Kat found Sissel knelt next to an unlit candle, surrounded in a circle of books. Her hands hovered over the wick, eyes snapped shut in concentration. 

"Come on, come on, light already!" Sissel chanted, growing more impatient. For a second a flame sparked to life, Sissel jumped for joy, then just as fast as the fire had sprung up it was gone again. The only proof it had once burned was the smoke floating up to the ceiling.

"Oh for gods sake," Sighed Sissel, holding her chin on one hand and checking a book with another. Laughing a little to herself Kat recalled her early days of using magic, and sat across from Sissel. With a flick of her hand she set the candle aflame once more.

"You don't like it here do you Sissel?"

To Sissel's credit she paused a moment, considering her response, and simply shook her head, slamming the book shut.

"Well, I need to go take a trip out of town for a while. I'm heading towards the College of Winterhold, would you like to attend some classes there?"

*****  
“Finally!” Sighed Farkas, that was the last strap. Without thinking, or telling anyone he charged out of the room, forgetting his sword.

“Kat! KAT!” He cried rushing through the streets all the way to the market. Where would she have gone? She was smart, she’d try to leave the city immediately, but as of late Kat’s judgement had been rather impaired. Her family was inside the city's he wasn’t going to abandon them before saying goodbye. Knowing this he turned in the direction of Breezehome and pounded on the door, locked.

“Open the door Lydia!” He shouted, a moment later it swung open. Clad in armour with sword and shield at her side stood Kat’s housecarl. When she saw who it was Lydia tried to slam the door but Farkas shoved it aside and pushed past her. “Where is Kat? Has she left already?”

“Yes, there will be no catching up to her now, bought a horse on her way out.” Lydia answered a little too quickly. He could hear the shake in her voice far too easily. Even Kat who couldn’t lie to save her life wasn’t that obvious about it.

“What’s happened to you Farkas? You’re bleeding! Was it one of those blasted dogs up at Jorrvaskr?” Lydia wondered, attempting to rationalize the claw mark on his face, denying that she already knew who gave it to him.

“And where is she headed Lydia?” He demanded scanning the room, upstairs he could hear whispers.

“She’ll be halfway to Falkreath by now,” Lydia answered, regretting it as soon as the words escaped her lips. Behind her Kat crept down the stairs holding Sissel’s hand, in her left she drew her sword, it looked like one of those fancy glass ones, only icy cold and pale.

“Halfway to Falkreath huh?” Questioned Farkas crossing his arms.

“Oh look she's back!” Lydia fake smiled before following her Thane’s footsteps and drawing her own sword. Hands in the air Farkas let Lydia herd him into a corner while Kat and Sissel made for the exit, never taking their eyes off him.

“Kat don’t! Come back, we can talk about this!” Farkas begged, Lydia’s steel sword brushing the skin on his throat. Kat turned her back to him hesitating halfway through the threshold. Chin falling to her chest she sighed at the ground and sheathed her sword.

“If he tries to follow us, stop him.” And with that command she departed for the stables, pulling Sissel along with her. Sissel looked torn and confused and didn't tear her gaze from the house until she was down the road and out of sight

“Stop him” Farkas had no doubt would attack and kill anyone if Kat commanded it, but “stop”? It was vague. Had wanted him dead she’d had two opportunities to do it already, but she’d held back. She wouldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t kill her, but he could stop her, if he got past Lydia…

No way Lydia would believe him if he told her the truth, Lydia was loyal to a fault. One day it would be the death of her. Sissel had looked doubtful though, conflicted, if he could just find them, she’d likely take his side.  
“I’m her friend Lydia, she needs my help.” He explained. In response Lydia only held her sword more firmly against his neck, this time Farkas felt a trickle of blood down his throat. 

“You’re her friend too, and you’re not doing Kat any favours by-” Farkas gave up on his little speech and decided to go with a proven method instead, kicking her in the shin. Off balance Lydia stumbled long enough for  
Farkas to knock the sword out of her grasp and make a run for it.

All the way to the stables he sprinted, with Lydia chasing after. When they arrived Farkas just glimpsed Kat and Sissel mounting a horse before they galloped away. Stubbornly Farkas gave chase, they’d taken the road to the west, towards Markarth. 

“Kat come back!” He cried, lagging behind as Kat kicked the horse and sped away quicker. He couldn’t possibly keep up for long, not in human form anyway, though the guards wouldn’t exactly appreciate a werewolf running around…

Slowly he kept getting further and further from Kat until they reached the abandoned Western watchtower and his legs wouldn’t allow him to sprint any longer. Sinking to his knees in defeat he inhaled sharply.

“Kat!” Farkas screamed towards the sky. Huffing and puffing Lydia came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. She never said anything, there was nothing to say.

“She’s my friend, I love her and I let her become a monster. M-maybe don’t tell Ysolda about this, just this whole thing.” In response Lydia nodded.

“Lad? Is that you?”


	7. A "Friend" in the Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat rides away with Sissel, while Farkas and Lydia discover whats happened to Brynjolf.

“Brynjolf?” Asked Farkas, briefly forgetting about Kat in his confusion. Exchanging a concerned look with Lydia they rushed into the ruined watchtower. Farkas could smell the blood long before seeing it in patches on the floor leading to Brynjolf. His left hand was clenched to his right shoulder, an arrow shaft stuck out of it, both his hand and armour drenched in blood. Shakily he inhaled, wincing from pain.

“Kat said you’d gone back to Riften,” Farkas exclaimed removing Brynjolf’s hand from the wound to inspect the damage. 

“I wish I had,” Brynjolf smiled weakly. “That, what Kat told you eh? Thought you’d figure out she’s a liar by now lad, maybe not a good one, but still a liar.” Silently Farkas and Lydia exchanged looks while Brynjolf spoke. Both knew that he didn’t have a chance if they couldn’t get him to Danica or another healer close by. 

“Can you walk?” Lydia asked. Rolling his eyes Brynjolf turned his gaze away from Farkas and to Kat’s housecarl.

“Where would I walk to lass? I escaped Whiterun from inside a cell and took an arrow for it. Go back and they’ll let me bleed to death behind more bars.” Brynjolf sighed, allowing his head to roll back to lean against the wall and rest his eyes.

“They can damn well try,” Farkas growled, helping Brynjolf up by his good arm.

*****

Sissel waited in awkward silence until the sun was going down and the watchtower was far, far out of sight before talking to Kat. If she wasn’t telling stories about various caves and castles they passed by now, she was definitely upset.

“Why did we run away from Farkas? How come you and Lydia drew swords on him? I thought he was your friend…” Sissel questioned. Before answering Kat sighed and searched the countryside for something, anything else to talk about.

“See that ruin up ahead? That’s one of the first bandit camps I ever cleared out! Though the vampire was a nasty surprise…” Said Kat, changing the subject. 

“Avoiding questions only makes you more suspicious, so why did we run?” Sissel paused a moment remembering the blood that trickled across Farkas’ face, it looked like he’d been slashed by some animal. “Why did you claw him?”

“W-well, it’s complicated Sissel, he doesn’t understand…” Came Kat’s shaky reply, clearly it had caught her off guard. 

“But what doesn’t he understand?” Sissel demanded, still incredibly confused. For a moment Kat was silent, either contemplating the question, scrounging for a reply, or stalling for time.

“He doesn’t understand me.” Was the best response she had.

*****

Brynjolf fainted twice from blood loss by the time they reached Whiterun’s gates. So much blood stained the man’s armour that Farkas was beginning to doubt he’d pull through.Two men guarded the gate, wielding sword and shield, as they approached both drew their weapons as a warning.

“Halt Companion! This man has committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, you will surrender him to our custody immediately!” One of them ordered. Hand resting on her sword Lydia glanced over to Farkas as if for permission, but Farkas confidently shook his head. Drawing a weapon against a city guard would only stand to worsen the situation confronting them. Rolling her eyes Lydia let her hands fall to her sides, fighting wouldn’t help, but perhaps talking might…

“What has this man been charged with?” Demanded Lydia, gesturing towards Brynjolf. The guard took a step back nervously looking to his partner for an answer, the other man shrugged in return. 

“He was seen breaking out of the dungeons, prison breaking is a crime.” Replied the first guard, satisfied with his response, Lydia wasn’t quite so convinced.

“So why was he thrown in the dungeon in the first place?” Lydia questioned. Beneath their helmets, each guard wore a stunned expression on their face.

“H-he, attacked Kat, the uh, the Thane.” Stuttered the second guard. Nodding stupidly Lydia crossed her arms and turned her head towards Farkas.

“It seems this man attacked my Thane!” Lydia laughed. “I might even believe you if this man and Kat weren’t good friends. What do you think Kat’s going to do when she finds out you imprisoned one of her dear friends? And then I tell her you let him bleed to death at the gates from a wound you inflicted?” Lydia threatened, having no clue that the guards were telling the semi-truth.

With a nervous gulp each guard sheathed their sword in turn and held open the gates as Lydia and Farkas half-dragged Brynjolf through.

“You still there Brynjolf?” Asked Farkas as they passed Warmaiden’s and turned left up some steps. Groaning, Brynjolf collapsed to his knees, turning pale as milk. “Get Danica!” Cried Farkas wrapping Brynjolf’s good arm around his neck and picking him up like some damsel in distress. “Sorry about this Bryn,”

Lydia had charged off ahead of them to seek Danica’s aid, she had just finished explaining the situation when Farkas burst through the doors carrying Brynjolf. 

“Put him down there,” Instructed Danica, pointing at an empty table. Farkas obeyed, gently setting Brynjolf down and giving Danica an opportunity to examine him. She frowned when she saw the arrow embedded in his right shoulder, and the blood staining his armour and Farkas’ hands. “It’s too late for him, remove the arrow and he’ll only bleed to death faster.” Danica explained.

No, Brynjolf thought, he didn’t want to die in a place like this. The temple was rather impressive, the sun shone the stained glass which was in turn reflected by the pools of water on the floor, but he was surrounded by the sick and dying. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he heard Farkas arguing with Danica but couldn’t make out the words. I don’t want to die, he thought, closing his eyes.

*****

The road to Winterhold was long dangerous, and grassy meadows soon turned to harsh snowy forest. It was only their second day of riding and they’d already been attacked three times, once by bandits and twice by wolves. Sissel had been terrified each time even though she knew Skyrim had worse enemies to offer, and fear. Kat didn’t seem scared at all though, she hadn’t even bothered to dismount during the attacks.

Sighing out of annoyance she had drawn her icy glass sword and taken a wolf’s head of in one clean swipe, causing the others to flee from fear. Many children would have found the head bouncing on the ground and spurting blood sickening, but Sissel had grown accustomed to her mother’s “care-free” lifestyle.

During the bandit attack Kat tried to scare them off with hisses and threats, but the bandits were too brave-or stupid was Sissel’s guess- to listen. Drawing their inferior steel weapons the bandits advanced on Kat and Sissel, still calmly seated on the horse. Though fear and adrenaline coursed through Sissel demanding she take action, Sissel knew the safest place was with her mother. 

“FAAS RU MAAR!’ Kat shouted. Dropping their weapons in a panic, the bandits fled, as though faced by a foul monster they had no hope of defeating. 

It was no secret to Sissel that her mother was Dragonborn, how else could she know so much about dragons? But this was the first time she’d seen Kat actually shout in the dragon-tongue. Sissel found it fascinating that using three simple words could send warriors fleeing, halt time, or burn people alive, it was truly an extraordinary gift.

“Mom, what did those words mean?” Asked Sissel. 

“In the common tongue? ‘Fear, run, terror’. I find it amusing to see those milk-drinkers running away with their tails between their legs.” Kat explained.

“I wish I was Dragonborn.”

“You don’t need to be Dragonborn to use the Voice, Sissel.”

“Right, I could live at the top of a mountain with some old dudes, or I could be like Ulfric and murder the High King, turned out great for them.”

“And here I thought your sister was the funny one.”

A few short miles from Winterhold Kat brought the horse to a halt, waking her sleeping daughter.

‘What’s wrong ma?” Yawned Sissel, rubbing her eyes.

“Stay here, take these,” Ordered Kat handing Sissel her expensive sword and the glass helmet off her head. Obediently Sissel put on the helmet and held the sword awkwardly in her right hand. It was too heavy for such a small girl, Sissel would never wield a sword like Kat, but she preferred magic anyway.

Then Sissel spotted what had bothered her mother, on the road ahead lay an abandoned cart, blood spilled all over the dirt and snow, lying where he died were the remains of a nord merchant. Face first in the snow lay the dead man, with no visible wounds until Kat flipped him onto his back, three broken arrow shafts protruded from his stomach. 

“Been dead only a few hours, maybe a day, the cold would keep it fresh,” Muttered Kat to no one in particular, analyzing the body. She had no problem dispatching bad-or occasionally decent-people, but when she discovered bodies she played no part in killing, Kat needed to know what happened. 

“These arrows are of Forsworn make, odd, they don’t usually come out this far,” As Kat studied the corpse a silent Forsworn crept up behind her. Before Sissel could shout a warning Kat whirled around and grabbed the man’s neck with sharp claws. 

“How many did you kill to set up this ambush?” Kat growled, blood beginning to drip where her claws dug into his pale skin.

“Three and a half,” He choked out. Eyes narrowing, Kat tightened her grip on his neck until the man explained himself. “I mean a child.” Kat hissed then, tail lashing angrily, Sissel swore she was about to rip his head off.

“Put him down kitty,” Warned a voice from behind Kat, resting a sword on her shoulder. “Turn around, don’t bother trying to be brave, I don’t have the patience for the whole ‘hero’ thing right now.” 

Sighing, Kat removed her claws from the bleeding man, and turned to see a taller Forsworn with an antlered headdress. The gaping wound in his chest announced that he was a Briarheart, filthy undead men who had their hearts torn out and replaced with a seed of some kind. Kat despised the Briarhearts, other Forsworn she could handle, but the Briarhearts were tough bastards. Rolling her eyes Kat hissed, clenching and unclenching her fists. 

“TIID KIO UL!” She shouted before the Briarheart had a chance to move the sword away from her shoulder. 

Sissel wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, Kat moved like a blur, almost too fast for her eyes to keep up. In an instant she had pulled the Briarheart out of the man’s chest, slowly he began to fall. Using the sword still resting on her right shoulder, Kat took hold of the handle with her left hand and spun to face the other man. Taking advantage of the momentum Kat cleanly sliced off his head.

As time started up again Kat stumbled, the briarheart's limp body fell into a snow drift. The forsworn’s head bounced to the ground.

“Come Sissel, Winterhold awaits.” Kat said, breathing heavily and wiping blood from her claws with a handkerchief. 

Sissel gaped in amazement, and flicked the reins, attempting to urge the horse forward, the damn thing didn’t budge.

“He’s a stubborn one isn’t he?”Kat laughed climbing up next to Sissel.

*****

“Is Brynjolf dead Farkas?””

“No Frodnar, Danica said he’d be fine in a few days.”

“So, can I have his armour if he dies?”

“No Erith! I told you two he’ll be alright, other than the arm of course, that could take a while.”

“Farkas,” Brynjolf groaned, squinting in the bright light of the room, content he wasn’t in the temple on a stone bed, but in Breezehome. Wincing, Brynjolf sat up and inspected his wounded shoulder, relieved to find it bandaged and minus an arrow sticking out of it. “I thought I was going to die.”

“According to Danica you should have, by the time we got you here she warned us you would only die faster if we pulled out the arrow.” Farkas explained, placing a hand on Brynjolf’s good shoulder to steady him. For a moment Brynjolf cease his panicked breaths and sighed.

“Lad, you’re my friend and all, but you are shit at explanations. How exactly am I alive right now?” Brynjolf paused then. “I am alive right lad?”

“Aye Brynjolf, you are alive,” Erith answered. “So, can I have your armour when you die?” Farkas and Frodnar both laughed as Erith crossed her arms, Brynjolf managed a smile. “It was a serious question.”

“I fear it may be a bit big on you lass,” Joked Brynjolf as Lydia and Ysolda appeared in the doorway, both with arms crossed and wearing smug expressions.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” Laughed Ysolda.

“I told you at least one of Kat’s knick-knacks was would be able to help.” Said Lydia, clutched in one of her hands was an ornately carved white potion bottle. Rolling her eyes Ysolda handed the warrior a bag of coins.

“Did you take wages on my death?” Brynjolf demanded. Sighing Ysolda kicked a pile of junk while Lydia began counting septims.

“Technically we took bets on all this junk lying around, and whether any of it was even remotely useful.” Ysolda lied, Lydia shook her head.

“Nah, she just bet you would die.” Lydia replied, tallying the final coin. “And she’s twenty short.”

“Way to throw me under the cart Lydia,” Sighed Ysolda, patting Lydia’s shoulder on her way out the door. Halfway through she paused, remembering the kids. “Erith, Frodnar, come now, let’s leave Kat’s friend alone. You come too Lydia, i’ll get you those twenty septims.” She called, descending the stairs.

Outside the house the four split off into pairs and separated, Frodnar and Erith tore past Warmaiden’s while Lydia and Ysolda headed for the Bannered Mare.  
All the regular people were in the market, selling their wares and chatting up potential customers. Ysolda had lived in Whiterun for years now, recognized all the vendors, who to avoid, and who had the best prices. She even knew the names of several guards (even though Kat outright refused to learn them, referring to them instead as “racist whiners with targets for knees”.) Ysolda knew who the town drunk was (Brenium), the town crazy (Heimskr) and the resident asshole (Nazeem) but there was one woman in the market she’d never seen before.

The woman was dressed in armour that looked a tad like steel plate, only darker. Atop her helmet was a decorative chunk of metal shaped like a dragon’s claw. Peeking out from under the helmet was blonde hair and the face of a woman in her mid-fifties who noticed Ysolda staring, and winked. When the woman passed Ysolda she noticed a slip of parchment in the woman’s hand, which she let fall between her fingers and float to the ground.

“You dropped something,” said Ysolda as Lydia bent down to collect the papers. The woman turned back as she neared the gate, smiled at Ysolda and exited the city.

“Um Ysolda, I believe she meant to,” Lydia observed. In her left hand was a map of Skyrim with a location in the Reach circled, in the other a note that read, “I can help you find her, see you soon. -A Friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay summer! Since I'm doing nothing for two whole months, you can expect more chapters of all three of my projects sooner! :)  
> Have a great day!


	8. We Three Dovahkiin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat and Sissel arrive at the college of Winterhold, where Kat visits an old "friend" who shares something in common with her.

They rode on through the night, Kat wanted to put as much distance between her and Farkas as possible. Sissel had fallen asleep and didn't even notice when they rode into Dawnstar.  
“Sissel wake up, I do believe we have taken a wrong turn.”

Sissel yawned and woke up with a stretch. Unsurprised she looked around, Kat had always been, “directionally challenged”. Even on the way back from Hjaalmarch she had gotten them lost more than once.   
“You're right, we’re in Dawnstar. We should have taken a right at the crossroads to Windhelm.” Sissel agreed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. In front of her, Kat sighed. Without having to ask Sissel knew exactly what she was thinking, “shit”.

“Don't worry mom, just take that road there. Shouldn't take too long.” Said Sissel, pointing to a road heading east. 

“Good thing you read a lot of books, where would I be without my little navigator?” Kat smiled.

“Some shack in Hjaalmarch,” Sissel shrugged as Kat burst into laughter.

They rode in silence for a time, leaving the restless citizens of Dawnstar behind. Sleepily Sissel glanced up into the cloudless sky, thankful it wasn't raining, or snowing.

“Have you ever met a good dragon?” Asked Sissel, breaking the silence a few minutes up the road. For a moment Kat remained silent, pondering the odd remark.

“Well, for the most part the dragons I meet have no interest in chatting, or anything really, ‘cept eating me.” She answered.

“Most?” Kat turned around to face Sissel, a confused look in her eyes. “You said most don't talk to you, insinuating that at least one has.” Sissel continued.

“Nothing gets past you does it? Well I’ve spoken to a few dragons, two I think. The first must have been Durnehviir, before that I didn't even know dragons could speak.”

“What happened to Durnehviir? How did you meet him?”

“Bit of a long story really…” Stalled Kat, maybe she would just give Sissel the undetailed version. “I was helping me friend Serana track down her mother…”

“Did Durnehviir help you? Is that why you talked to him?”

Kat snickered, the memory suddenly coming back to her mind. “Actually he also tried to kill us, so with Valerica’s help we chopped off his head. Valerica is uh, Serana’s mother.” Kat smiled, Sissel still stared at her in confusion. “Right uh, after that he sort of came back from the dead. I don't think he’s actually capable of death, Durnehviir is odd that way. He’s undead or soul trapped or something…”

“What about the other one?’ Sissel wondered. “Has Alduin ever talked to you?”

“We’ve never really had a conversation, but he has talked at me. It’s usually just taunts and threats though.”

Growing more quiet, Sissel analyzed both stories. Neither of them seemed positive, killed one, constantly trying to slay the other. Were there any good dragons like she’d dreamt about?

“Why do you ask Sissel?” Said Kat, tearing Sissel out of her thoughts. Caught a bit off-guard by the question, Sissel stuttered through her answer

“I uh, dreamt of a nice old dragon when I was in Rorikstead. H-he had a cracked horn, but he wasn’t scary. Lived at the top of the-”

“Throat of the world?” Kat finished. “I think you mean Paarthurnax.” She said as she brought the horse to a halt and dismounted.

“Why did we stop.” Yawned Sissel, her tired eyes hadn't yet noticed the lighthouse they’d approached, or the dead creature Kat knelt next to in the snow.

“Because horses don't normally fall over and die bloody on their own.” Answered Kat, as she ran her hand along the dead horse, it came back bloody. Suspiciously Kat pulled out Chillrend and approached the lighthouse door. Pointing her sword towards the door Kat slowly crept towards it, daring the killer to come out.

“Show yourself!” Kat demanded taking a defensive position. When nothing happened she kicked in the unlocked door with Sissel following close behind.

Blood was everywhere. In the main chamber lay a dead red guard woman, the handle of an axe sticking out of her back. A wooden table had been smashed in half, it’s contents of food strewn all over. By the mantle lay a gargantuan chaurus sliced in half. Quickly Kat scanned the rooms searching for any calmer or their vile “pets”.

“Stay here Sissel, I’m going into the basement.” Kat announced, going to pick the basement lock. Taking a longer look at everything Sissel spotted a journal clenched in the dead woman’s hand. Lying on the mantelpiece was a torchbug buzzing about it a jar. Gingerly Sissel grabbed both, locked herself in a bedroom and used the bug’s light to read by. Within the bedrooms she discovered more journals and a note. Between them Sissel managed to piece together the story of a family that came to Skyrim from Hammerfell and bought Frostflow lighthouse. Husband and wife Habd and Ramati traveled with the their reluctant children Mani and Sudi, hoping to have a few more years of being a family before growing old. 

Next to the basement door Kat was swearing rather colourfully, switching between the dragon language and the common tongue each time she broke a lock pick. Ignoring her, Sissel finshed reading Sudi’s journal. Amidst the complaining and Habd warning her to stay away from those “deadra worshipers” at the college hid one useful splinter of information. There was a basement key, inside Ramati’s keepsake, the urn atop the fireplace.  
With Kat still cursing Sissel checked the urn, inside was a handful of gold coins and a bronze key. Swiftly Sissel pocketed the coins, crossed the room and handed the key to her mother.

“Good detective work Sissel, you’ll be a fine adventurer one day.” Kat praised sliding the key into the lock, it clicked open. “I’ll be back soon.” Promised Kat stepping through the the doorway and locking it behind her. 

“Sure,” Muttered Sissel. She wasn’t worried for Kat’s safety, gods knew the Dragonborn could handle herself, but how could Sissel become an adventurer one day without any adventures left to go on? Sighing, Sissel stomped back to the bedrooms and the bloodstained journals. 

They explained how things had been going missing, and Sudi kept hearing strange noises coming from the basement. How Habd and Ramati’s only wish was to spend a few more years with their children before they took off into the big wide world. That Habd wanted his remains placed in the lighthouse fire so he could watch over the ocean shores forever. And how his son Mani had plans to steal away back to Hammerfell, cursing his parents for bringing him to this cold, awful place.

Sissel hadn't seen any dead other than the mother, Ramati, and fell asleep dreaming that Mani and Sudi reached their homeland. She collapsed at the table on top of the journals and notes in the light of the torchbug.  
Awakened by the dawn’s light and her mother once again swearing Sissel sprang up, careful not to knock over the torchbug's jar.

“What was down there mom?”Asked Sissel, everything from the previous night flooding back all at once.

“A large cavern, filled to the brim with falmer and chaurus. You know, it's a wonder all of Skyrim hasn’t collapsed into the hundreds of enormous caves just below the surface.” Kat told her.

“Did you find Habd or his two kids?”

“Both teens were dead, Habd was eaten by a chaurus. I read the notebooks while you slept, and I thought we should put Habd to rest at the top of the lighthouse.” Kat suggested, the door swinging open. Together the two climbed the staris all the way to the top. There was no blood up there and Sisssel breathed in happily with the stench of death gone. 

Scaling up the ladder to the signal fire Kat pulled out her bloody handkerchief. Sissel could just make out Habd’s mangled skull as Kat cast both into the flames.

“Wasn’t that your favourite handkerchief mom?”

“One cannot get too attached to people or things Sissel,” Kat answered, setting her feet on the stone. “Otherwise life is full of disappointment.”

Once outside Kat untied her horse, but Sissel rushed back into the lighthouse and stuffed the journals in her backpack. Then she glanced at the torchbug, hovering in his jar. Kat watched anxiously as her daughter reemerged fro the old lighthouse, carrying a buzzing jar in her hands.

“I didn’t want to leave him there, surrounded by all that death.” Said Sissel apologetically.

“It's alright Sissel. I’m sure he’ll make a fine companion, and provide some decent light until you figure out those bloody candles. Now hop up next to me.” Kat offered her hand.

Though they had been attacked, stumbled upon a gruesome murder scene, and nearly been killed several times Sissel took her mother’s hand. Finally they set off, this time they wouldn't stop until they reached Winterhold.

*****  
Winterhold made Sissel almost sad, not quite disappointed, but something close. Once it must have been a magnificent sight to behold. She could picture it with banners flapping in the wind and an unbroken bridge. It was still impressive, but had a sense of longing for its glory days long past.

Kat rode as far as the bridge’s base and dismounted, she didn’t dare ride a horse on the icy, cracked stones.

“Watch your step. One slip and you’ll never do magic again.” Kat warned, walking Sissel onto the bridge.

Far below, Sissel could only see mist, thick and eerie. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of falling, a thousand feet to her demise. Carved in the shape of an eye was the college’s famous iron door, it swung open by itself welcoming those gifted with magic.

Seeing the gate ajar a student trudged into the snowy courtyard to greet them. The man was a khajiit, the second Sissel had ever met. Kat had told her a bit about the college and based on the proud way this mage carried himself and the smug smile on his face, it could only be J’zargo.

“Back so soon huh Kat? Afraid J’zargo will get ahead?” J’zargo mocked flashing a disturbing smile of pointed teeth at Kat. Sissel recognized that smile, it was the one Kat used on guards and other idiots that pissed her off when she was trying to intimidate them.

“Well, it you think you can beat me, just say so kitty.” She returned his creepy smile and poked his wet nose, then led Sissel away, tail swishing.

Ahead was a statue of a mage, his cloak and robes “billowing” in the wind. From what appeared to be a well shone a blue light, a beacon that scaled as far as Sissel could see into the stormy sky. Many despised the constant blizzards that plagued the college, and Kat had warned her about them, but Sissel enjoyed the snow. She didn’t hadn’t often seen any in Rorikstead, or later in Whiterun. Honestly Sissel had been more worried about Kat who was from the sandy lands of Elsweyr. In response Kat had said, “Damn that hot sandy place! It can go straight to Oblivion! I have fur dammit! I have fur!” Sissel reminded herself not to bring up Kat’s homeland again after that.

Inside the Arcaneum was another beacon and an old man lecturing some students, he had to be Tolfdir. Without disturbing the practicing mages Kat ushered Sissel up a flight of stairs to what she assumed were the Arch Mages’ quarters.

A massive tree dominated the center of room, illuminated by floating lights of magical origin. Among the tree’s roots herbs grew, used for potions and poisons. Sitting in a chair reading book was the Arch Mage, a gruff old man by the name Hawkins. As Kat described him he was a mean, ugly man who was proud, stubborn and silent, but trustworthy.

“Kat? I don’t recall sending for you…” Said Hawkins without looking up from his book.

“You didn’t summon me, I came with my daughter to be trained in magic.” Explained Kat motioning towards Sissel.

“Hmm…” Hawkins pondered, closing the book in his hands. Curiously he studied Sissel, trying to discern if she was magically gifted. Was that something mages could see? Either way Hawkins seem thrilled.

“For all the work I’ve done for the college, I’m sure you can teach my daughter magic in return.” Kat half suggested, half demanded. 

“And what work would that be?” Asked Hawkins, stroking his grey beard.

“Whether you like it or not, I was the one who warned you about Ancano! Shifty elf. And of course there was the time I delved into Labyrinthian with you cowering behind me to collect some stupid staff of some wizard long dead.” Kat hissed.

“Really? You were there for that?” He questioned, lost in thought. His tone wasn’t accusatory, not like Kat’s, his seemed to be struggling to remember the heroic acts of anyone but himself. “Very well.” He said finally. Reopening his book, the Arch Mage sighed. “Urag could always use some help, I’m sure he’ll teach her a thing or two. He’s downstairs, tending to his precious library as always.”

With a nod Kat took Sissel’s hand and headed down, leaving Hawkins and his wonderful garden alone. They were halfway to the library when Sissel tore her hand away.

“Why do you trust that man?” She thought about adding on “over Farkas” but thought it best not to throw salt on the open wound.

“Hawkins may be an old bat of a man, but-”

“But what? Why are you defending him? It’s obvious you dislike him too.” Sissel pointed out, interrupting Kat.

Because I need someone else like me, Kat thought. The greybeards told her that Dragonborn's of the past lusted for power, and Kat hadn’t exactly been suppressing the urge…Hawkins was her last hope, he wasn’t exactly good, but he was decent. If he could be decent, Kat could certainly be good, so what was she doing with the Dark Brotherhood?

In her head she could justify the first kill, orphan beater, simple enough. But that day in the cabin, where she found herself kidnapped and Astrid sitting above her on the shelf...Where she'd been asked to kill. To choose which one she killed, with a one in three chance of getting the one with the contract on their head.

*****  
Without a weapon Kat had no hope of taking on Astrid, the only way out of that cabin was for someone to die, and Kat wasn't ready. Briefly she interrogated all three, the cowardly sellsword, the cussing old woman, and the shady khajiit. She never bothered to learn their names, the knowledge that one of them would dead in a few minutes burned in the back of her mind. 

Then, Astrid changed the rules.

“Maybe if you get it right I’ll consider sparing your family.” Threatened Astrid, swinging her leg cheerfully, like it was all some game to her. Perhaps it was, maybe the crazy bitch enjoyed Kat's torment. Regardless, Kat didn't reply, only clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Nothing she said could improve the situation, the only thing she could do was choose the right person.

Keeping her back to the assassin’s leader, to make sure she couldn't see the tears welling in Kat's eyes, snarl curling onto her lips, Kat approached the khajiit. Claws out and ready she tore into his neck, the fur there was thin, and the slow drips of blood weren't going to kill him. 

“What? Can't even slit Vasha’s throat throat like a civilized assassin? What kind of second rate cutthroat are you? Let your employer know that Vasha is not impressed.” Snarled Vasha. He was the easy choice, self proclaimed “defilement of daughters” who claimed it would be considered an offense if an enemy wouldn't pay to have him killed.

Growling, Kat wrung her hands around his neck, refusing to yield until she heard him gasping for air, saw his tail lash violently on the ground. Until he went still, and slumped over, lifeless.

“Mm mm…positively savage, good choice,” Astrid praised from her shelf. Without turning around Kat moved around to the next victim, the woman, and wrapped her hands around her neck. 

“Burn in Oblivion!” She choked out, Kat continued to strangle her from behind, staring Astrid in the eyes with a blank expression. Beneath the mask Kat couldn't tell what Astrid was thinking, but the woman made no move to stop her, so Kat let the second person fall to the ground.

“Oh gods no, please please-” Stammered the mercenary hearing Kat's footsteps approaching him, feeling her claws curl around his throat. Kat never tore her gaze from Astrid until all three people were dead, until she looked down at the damage she had caused. She couldn't help but look as she stalked back over to Astrid, and realized the hoods over their faces were a mercy. Not for the victims, but for her, Kat never saw their faces, never learned their names. Maybe she could just forget…

“Quite the overachiever aren't you kitty?” Astrid laughed, hopping down from her shelf and handing Kat a key. She wanted to tear out the assassin’s throat, scream at her, threaten her, warn her not to come between her and family, instead she said nothing. 

“See you at home then, outside of Falkreath, off the main road. Remember, ‘Silence, my brother.’”

Tail lashing, heart thudding, Kat squeezed the key into her bloody palm, and unlocked the door. In the fresh swampy air she took one last look at the shack, and the key, and hurled it into the murky water.

It took several minutes to calm her heart and clear her mind, but couldn't stop the blood pounding in her ears. She could lie to anyone-maybe not very well- except herself. She’d killed three people that day, felt their blood on her hands, and she had liked it.

*****

Instead of pouring her thoughts out Kat knelt next to Sissel and grabbed her shoulder.

“Sissel, I can’t explain it, but I have to tell you I won't be around for a while. I’m leaving, send me a letter if you have any problems. Especially with J’zargo, I promise to mess his face up.” She promised, planting a kiss on Sissel’s forehead. 

Shaking her head Sissel rushed down the last steps towards the Arcaneum, leaving Kat by herself, eyes beginning to water.

*****

“You there!” Hailed a voice as Kat was exiting the college. Standing at the bridges’ base were two men, adorned in brown robes and odd bone masks. These weren’t passing travelers looking for directions, they had some purpose, and it made Kat nervous. Silently Kat wondered if it was too late to run back into the college, instead she let her hand wander to Chillrend at her side. “Are you the one they call Dragonborn?” 

Neither of them waited for her answer as they charged up the icy stones towards the section of bridge with no guard-rail. 

“Aye, I’m Dragonborn,” Kat announced, hoping she looked less terrified then she felt. What in Oblivion did these people want? How did they know where to find her? More importantly who sent them?

“Save your lies for blind fools, Deceiver. The True Dragonborn comes! You attempt to walk in his shadow, but the fires shall not spare you! When Lord Miraak rises all shall bear witness to his glory! Not even you will dare oppose him!”

Ill intent, exactly as Kat had suspected. These days it seemed like everyone in Skyrim was out to get her. Sighing, Kat drew Chillrend and closed the distance between her and the assailants before either managed to cast a spell. With mages, she preferred not to bother with aiming a bow, but rather slice them into tiny pieces.

As Kat sent the head of the first man rolling, the second cast a column of lightning her way, it barely tickled. Growling, she slashed a hole in his chest and he crumpled to his knees in pain. Removing her sword she pointed it at the man’s neck, sighed again, shook her head.

“Pitiful really. This is why we wear armour.” Kat smiled, showing off her sharp teeth. The man removed his mask and glared up at her. 

“You are no Dragonborn.” He spat. Kat let out a laugh, this was just too delicious...

“FUS RO DAH!” Kat shouted, smiling as she watched the man’s limp body tumble down into the mist below the bridge. Smiling in satisfaction Kat sheathed Chillrend and turned her attention back to the headless man. Hidden inside his pocket was a note that had been crumpled and folded many times. Ink was smudged, the edges torn, and it smelled of salt.

“Board the vessel ‘Northern Maiden’ docked at Raven Rock.” Kat read. “Take it to Windhelm and begin searching. Kill the false Dragonborn known as ‘Cat’ before she reaches Solstheim. Return with her head as proof of your success and Lord Miraak will be most pleased.” 

“Bloody bastards! Couldn’t even be bothered to spell my name right!” Cried Kat before remembering, “Right, they tried to kill me…”

Growling, Kat dropped the note, letting it soar down to the icy stream, and departed for Windhelm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be posting alternating chapters of this and "When the Last Dovahkiin Dies". I can't promise when but I can promise I won't be abandoning any of my projects, I enjoy writing them too much to forget about them.


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